


FFXV Sprint Works

by hanalunettes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Betrayal, Fate Change, Gen, Oblivious Death, Sacrifice, Time Travel, Unconscious Soul Separation, body control, grandfather paradox
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanalunettes/pseuds/hanalunettes
Summary: A collection of drabbles/oneshots/ficlets I wrote during Sprints in our FFXV Discord Group.





	1. Noctis/Prompto: Zegnautus, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Sprint: A writing sprint is an exercise where you write as much as you can in a short period of time (e.g. 15 minutes) with a focus on maximizing word count. If you do them with other people, you can compare word counts and share what you wrote.
> 
> Join the [Discord!](https://discord.gg/DQGmdmP)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprint on 03/03
> 
> Word Count: 714

"Prom, Prom!" Noct grits his teeth as he dodges yet another blow. He didn't know what happened, one minute Prompto was okay, walking alongside him, but the next--

 

He's transformed into this machine, hell-bent on killing Noctis.

 

Prompto's eyes were red, void of emotions. His hands, still equipped with the guns from the armiger, the guns that Noctis had given him personally, bullets after bullets firing nonstop aimed towards him. Shit, he thought, this wasn't the Prompto he knew, this was all wrong, whatever could have happened? They were so close to getting to the crystal, all they had to do was to pass through the hangar and they'd be on their way to the crystal. Everything had been according to plan, yet  _ why _ \--

 

He didn't register what was happening up till the pain that bloomed on his left shoulder. In a distance, he heard Gladio shouting his name, but that all seemed far away. He could feel droplets trickling down his chest; bullet lodged deep into his bone. The first time since Prompto turned his back onto them suddenly, he saw a flash of smirk behind the smoke of his gun, elated when he finally hit his target.

 

The resounding laughter that echoed through the speakers of Gralea had Noctis's blood boiling with anger. Of course, who else could be behind this?

 

"Poor, poor Prompto," the voice was sultry, yet mocking. Noctis wanted nothing but to slice and rip Ardyn's throat out. Trust Ardyn to actually wreck their friendship from the inside, targeting their weak spots as if he had been studying their every move for years. "He couldn't remember his dear old friends anymore now, could he?"

 

Noctis really, really wanted to kill Ardyn right then and there.

 

"Noct.." that small whisper, however faint, was still loud and ringing in Noctis's ears, tone all too familiar. Everything was forgotten as his eyes focused solely on Prompto's figure, evil smirk gone and replaced with a melancholic smile. "Noct, I don't have too much time."

The pleading in his voice was something that Noctis knew all too well. His heart ached, stopping for a beat before continuing to beat twice as fast. No, no.. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would never.

 

Though it's as if Prompto could read his mind, like the open book he was. "Noct buddy, I don't know when I'm going to lose my control over this. I don't want to hurt you, Noct,  _ please _ \--" 

 

"No!" He screamed as the resounding laughter was back onto the speakers, mocking his entire being.

 

"Now, now Noct... Would you let Prompto suffer through this? How selfish are you, putting your wants over other's needs?"

 

"Noct!" Prompto screamed as another bullet went through his right shoulder this time, as a warning. The gun in Prompto's hand was smoking. 

 

"Noct, kill me. I beg of you."

 

Eyes shut and mouth pressed into a thin line, Noctis buried his guilt deep into the trenches of his heart as he summoned his father's sword in his arm. "Prompto, I'm so, so sorry."

 

Everything went by in a blink, the warp strike too fast for Prompto could even comprehend. The numbness that filled Prompto's head was nothing compared to the sword that lodged directly through his body. Sputtering, Prompto tried to take a deep breath, only to spit out blood.

 

Prompto could feel the consciousness drifting in and out of his body, his ears registering someone sobbing and his body faintly feeling someone shaking over his chest.

 

"Prompto, Prom, I'm so sorry--"

 

The hand that went into Noct's head was slick and sticky with blood, gently carding his fingers through hair, futilely trying to calm Noct's sobbing body. Prompto's vision was slipped in and out, faintly registering the two figures that towered over him. He smiled wistfully.

 

"Hey Noct buddy, did I do a good job?" Prompto had to know.

 

"Shut up Prom, this is not the time--"

 

"Please, answer me." The faint desperation in Prom's voice had Noctis reeling. He gritted his teeth.

 

"Yeah.. Yeah, you did."

 

"That's great," Prompto's voice was getting fainter and fainter by the minute, and the fingers through his hair stopped moving. "I'm glad.. I could be of service, Noctis."

 

The limp hand that fell from his hair was all the indication he needed.


	2. Noctis/Prompto: the things I do for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprint on 10/03
> 
> Word Count: 848

 

_ “Get the scratch card precisely at 2:53pm, you could strike the lottery for $250 grand.” _

_  
_ _ “Done.” _

_  
_ _ “The math exam’s next week; everything’ll be tested aside from chapter 5. You’ll need to practice.” _

 

_ “Ditto.” _

_  
_ _ “Okay, now that everything’s done and out of the way, you need to listen carefully. On August 26th, no matter what, you’re going to have Noctis covered okay? He’s going to want to walk home alone, but you’re going to be you and weave your way into accompanying him back home, okay? At the last intersection near Insomnian Park, say whatever it is you wanna say, and make sure to push him out of the way in record time.” _

 

_ “Oh uh.. Okay?” _

_  
_ _ “I’ll be watching you.” _

 

_ ——— _

 

He did it. The last deed was done. Noctis is safe now, and that’s all that ever mattered. Prompto checked his time; he had a little bit after five minutes till it happens. In his mind, then-Prompto would have successfully coaxed Noct into walking back home with him, and like all times, the Prince himself would have a hard time saying no to him.

 

Two minutes passed and there he sees it, the figure of two high school kids walking down the sidewalk next to Insomnian Park. The blond was cheerily hyping up the spirits of the raven, talking about anything just to keep said Prince engaged into the conversation. As their footsteps matched, he’d wonder if then-Prompto had had the same mindset like him, laying their life down for their only friend in a blink of an eye.

 

Watchful eyes trailed their every move, making sure everything was going according to plan. Then-Prompto was doing a fantastic job at keeping the Prince occupied, and he’d pat himself at the back for it.

 

It was then when he heard it: tires screeching from afar, too high to go unnoticed, but too far to figure out what it is. Him, having seen said incident happening before his eyes over a hundred times, knew the happenings of each second like the beat of his heart.

 

Despite its noise, the truck had been closer than it seems, and he caught the telltale signs of Then-Prompto fidgeting, fingers trembling, smile not reaching his eyes, though he was doing his best not to let Noctis know. Though, the prince was still too preoccupied with his own thoughts, aside from the occasional “mmhm” and “I see”s.

 

The final thirty seconds, and it’d be over swiftly.

 

_ “So what do I get if I do this?” Then-Prompto huffed, arms crossed around his chest. He’d struggled not to snort at the show of defiance, and tossed a rolled newspaper at then-Prompto’s direction. Catching it, the newspaper unrolled to a deadline in black ink. _

 

**PRINCE OF LUCIS DIES FROM CAR ACCIDENT AT 17**

 

_ The newspaper shook in the grasp of then-Prompto, not believing his eyes. “You’re joking. Noct can’t die, he  _ can’t _ , he’s the freaking Prince, of course he’d have someone looking after him _ _ — _ _ ” _

 

_ It took only one sentence to rope him into the plan. _

 

_ “Why else do you think I’d be here?” _

 

The sound of the truck swerving had him flinching, and he’d felt goosebumps on his skin. He couldn’t imagine the feeling then-Prompto must’ve been experiencing, but what affects  _ him _ , affects him too.

 

_ Ten. _

 

Then-Prompto slung his arms around Noctis’s shoulders, effectively blocking him from the view of the truck.

 

_ Seven. _

 

Noctis struggles in then-Prompto’s grasp, eyes filled with mirth.

 

_ Four. _

 

Then-Prompto manages to sneak in a nuggie to Noctis’s head, and the whole interaction made him smile.

 

_ Two. _

 

With all his might, then-Prompto whispers something into Noctis’s ears and pushes him out the way, as the sound of tires screeching echoed around the block, followed by a resounding thud.

 

“Prompto!” He could hear the Prince shouting in agony, but he couldn’t see his expression, because what had happened to then-Prompto, had happened to him too.

 

He clutched his middle, the feel of his insides squeezing was unbearable, a small smile graced his lips. A crowd had started to form, and he could faintly make out the school bag at the middle of the road. In a distance from said school bag, he could see then-Prompto’s body on the road, head faced away, unmoving. Blood was quickly pooling under him, and from the pain that he himself was feeling, the suffering will be ending soon.  _ Great job, Prom.  _ He’d whispered. _ I’m proud of you. _

 

His vision blurred beyond blinking, and the pain made him curl in on himself, groaning. Faintly, he heard Noctis’s scream for him to  _ wake up, Prompto, what kind of a sick joke is this? _

 

He let out a small sigh, thanking the Astrals that the Prince was safe. He wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t  _ let then-Prompto go through what he had.

 

He did it. The last deed was done. Noctis was safe now, and that’s all that ever mattered.


	3. The Bros: For Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprint on 15/03
> 
> Word Count: 967

“And only by the True King’s hand can the Immortal Accursed be banished.”

 

To Noctis, it was a given. Many had sacrificed their lives for the king, and it’s only natural that the king sacrifices his life to bring dawn back into the world. Mostly, that’s how it works. Mostly, that’s how fate went.

 

By their last campfire, he’d told them everything, from the prophecy to the feelings he’d stashed deep in his heart, words unsaid from ten years past due to the touch of his ego. After all, he knew he was going to die, so what’s the use of keeping secrets any longer?

 

They’d accepted his news with grim but open arms, never retaliating anything. If the Astrals have arranged fate to be this way, then next to nothing can be done to alter it. Prompto had mentioned, in passing, that it’s unfair, you were basically born to die at this point, and Noctis could only smile in return, because he couldn’t agree more.

 

When they’d defeated Ifrit, he’d relayed the message his father had told him. “Walk tall, my friends.” They bowed to him, an underlying promise of go forth, my King, for we shall restore the kingdom after you, and make sure it thrives better than before.

 

At the door to the throne room, Noctis requested for a photo, where Prompto had obliged. He’d intended to keep one for himself to bring it over to the afterlife, sharing it with Luna and his father. He’d chosen the one before they set sail to Altissia, the one with everyone together, Talcott, Monica, Cor and Iris.

 

His heart clenched, knowing that it’s been ten years since he saw all of them sans Cor, but it’s going to be more than that before he actually sees them again. He tucked the photograph safely into the jacket of his raiment, patting it safe. When they’d entered, Ardyn had made it clear that he wanted to fight Noctis and Noctis alone, and so they did.

 

Fighting Ardyn proved had taken most of his max energy, and Noctis was thankful that this would be the last fight before he could finally, finally rest. Summoning each weapon from the armiger, he’d finally finished Ardyn’s mortal body with his father’s sword, eyeing the body that dissipated into the scourge, bracing himself for the plane between the mortal world and the afterlife to lay the Usurper’s life in eternal peace.

 

Only, that’s where his fate had been altered.

 

When he appeared into the throne room once more, the three of them who were not supposed to be there, had been there.

 

Ignis, Prompto and Gladio were all standing still, breaths ragged.  The Kings of Yore were all lined up behind them, arms in hand.

 

“Hey Noct,” Prompto breathed, “glad you could join us.”

 

And it began.

The Mace striked Ignis first, bringing him to his knees, a pained grunt echoing around the room. Noctis could feel the pain just by hearing it, and it created a hollow deep in his heart.

 

“Stop!” he’d screamed, but his limbs, it was as though someone had frozen them, chaining him against invisible restraints. Dread slowly pooled at his gut, blooming through his body, because this isn’t what supposed to happen, damn it, the one who’s supposed to take the plunge was he himself, not them!

 

Prompto took the blow from the Mystic, a surprised and pained gasp echoing next. It pained him to see this, all the while when he cannot move, watching his friends suffer. This was  _ his _ battle to fight,  _ why’d they butt in, why’d they have to mess things up, why— _

 

“Because friends don’t let friends suffer alone, bud,” Prompto whispers, as though reading his mind, struggling to stand on his own two feet, limbs trembling. He eventually gave away, falling with a thud onto the floor, barely conscious.

 

Gladio was next, concealing his pain all behind a small grunt as the Shield went through him. He too, was brought to his knees, hands clenching painfully. The loopy grin he’d sent Noctis shattered the remaining pieces of his heart.

 

Noctis could only close his eyes and grit his teeth to the pain that they went through, taking the blows that are meant to be for him. As the second last blow was delivered to Gladio, Noctis saw a silhouette of Regis, of his father, and dropped down to his knees to beg.

 

“Please, please dad, don’t take them away, just don’t—”

 

Blue sylleblossoms drifted across the room, floating gently against the flow of the wind, and a bright, white light shone in front of him, taking the form of Luna.

 

“Noctis,” her voice ever so soft and gentle, “they had made a pact.”

 

“For what?” His vision blurred and voice wavered, gritting his spite out. Everything was wrong; none of this should have happened if only they could just—

 

“They had made a pact,” Luna lifted his chin gently, a small smile gracing her lips. “Should the body of the Usurper be defeated by the True King, they’d serve as a vessel to triumph over the spirit once and for all, for their King.”

 

Behind Luna, Regis gripped his sword and swooped in, and everything went white.

 

——

 

Sobs echoed throughout the throne room, a lone form crawling through the room towards three bodies that stayed unnervingly still. The raven, upon reaching the nearest one, belonging to his best friend, his closest companion, settled beside him, hand slowly coming up against fair skin, feeling around for his neck.

 

There was no heartbeat.

 

The bodies are warm, but there were no heartbeats.


	4. Gladiolus/Ignis: Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprint on 29/03
> 
> Word Count: 1275

The light was finally back, restored throughout Eos the next time all of them regained their consciousness. They’d woken up to dawn, and to the memory of Noctis resigning himself to fate was still  fresh in their minds. 

 

Ignis found himself underneath a rubble; an infrastructure piece that had broken and lunged towards him by a Red Giant, if memory serves. Slowly, carefully, he placed both of his palms flat against the rubble and pushed with all his might, causing it to topple over to his right with a heavy thud. Sitting upright, the sun burning his eyelids from ten years of light absence, dusting himself of the debris from his garb all the while shielding himself from the rays.

 

He’d been lying on the road along the Citadel steps, the tower looming over him, reflecting brightly once more against the light.

 

The first thought that came to his mind was to find both Gladio and Prompto. Frankly, he actually wanted to head straight towards the throne room to Noct, but some underlying nagging feeling in his gut told him to find the others first.

 

He’d spotted Prompto far away, along the gates of the Citadel, pausing in his steps after a few paces, as if contemplating to get in. As he approached, Prompto caught his form from the side of his eye, turning to look at him.

 

He didn’t expect Prompto to pale tremendously.

 

“Iggy?” Prompto questioned as if he was approaching a baby animal, voice soft and unsure. “Iggy, is that you?”

 

He could only raise a brow in question. “Why wouldn’t it be me?”

 

Prompto looked like a deer in headlights, eyes comically wide and body restless, as if he’s hiding something. When Ignis didn’t supply words any further, Prompto took it to his stride to approach him, steps all too light and cautious. “No, Iggy I mean, is that  _ really _ you?”

 

If anything, Ignis was a little bit miffed by the sudden behaviour, but he’d never expressed anything more than a purse of the lips. He folded his arms across his chest, staring at Prompto. “Why yes, it perhaps is me all along. What else do you think I am, some sort of spirit?”

 

Prompto chuckled nervously, beckoning him along. “Well, uh, come on then. Gladio’s close by, let’s go meet up with him.”

 

\--

 

For some reason, Prompto had suddenly backed out when Gladio’s form reached their peripheral visions, claiming that he’d needed to scout the area east of where they’re standing, never really waiting for Ignis’s reply before taking off. Gladio, whom had his back onto them, had his greatsword resting on his shoulder as he scanned the area. Ignis took a step closer and closer, and before he knew it, he was closing the distance between the two of them.

 

He was practically within an arm’s length from Gladio now, the heat from said Shield providing small comfort for Ignis. Taking a breath, he reached out to place an arm on Gladio’s shoulder, trying to get his attention.

 

Only for his hand to pass right through him.

 

For it to be shocking was an understatement, Ignis couldn’t grasp what was happening until he’d heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. He’d regained his footing from when he lost it temporarily trying to reach for Gladio, staring disbelievingly at his palm from where he’d  _ thought  _ he’d touched him.

 

“Iggy?” That soft tone again, the exact one Prompto used when he saw Ignis earlier. Somehow, Ignis couldn’t wrap his thoughts around anything, taking all of this as some sort of sick joke the Astrals had brought upon them. Hadn’t they put them through enough?

 

Ignis turned to face Gladio, nothing his lips parting slightly, eyes blown wide as he tried to register what was really happening. The gaze he’d directed so hard on his hand went on to Gladio, clenching and unclenching his fists to actually make sure he was actually there.

 

“Ignis — Iggy, you’re… you’re alive?”

 

That snapped him back straight to reality. “It seems that I am. What concluded you to presume that I was dead?” Gladio flinched at the comment, laying his sword down onto the road.

 

“Iggy, that’s not it, it’s just — ”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“We couldn’t find your body.” Gladio sighed, taking a step closer. “We’re still finding it, the Glaives, Prompto, Cor, all of us  — We’re still finding you. You’d disappeared right before the sun came up, and everything’s been hectic since. Prompto and I are still looking around for it.” 

 

Gathering his posture, Ignis pursed his lips. “Have you looked around the Citadel?”

 

“Yeah, that’s where we started.”

 

“Perhaps maybe you could’ve looked under the rubble?” 

 

“I — What? What rubble?”

 

Ignis sighed. “I was under the rubble. Thankfully I’d managed to push it away when I got up.”

 

“Wha — you mean, the infrastructure rubble along the Citadel road?”

 

“Why, yes,” Ignis paused. “Was something the matter?”

 

Gladio stayed silent, but his body language portrayed everything he had to say. He took a step back from Ignis, expression unbelieving, before another, and then another.

 

“Gladio, wait — ” and he took off. Ignis took off shortly after him.  _ This couldn’t be, could it? _ His mind raced.  _ This doesn’t make sense. Why is Gladio acting so peculiar? _

 

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts Ignis didn’t realise that they’d already reached the Citadel. Memories of fighting daemonised Ifrit filled his head, until Gladio shook him out of his thoughts.

 

“Was it that rubble?” Gladio had pointed straight to the huge pile of concrete stacked against one another just opposite them. They’d crossed the distance towards it, neither of them saying anything.

 

“Yes, this was it.” Ignis breathed, remembering how the rubble under his palm and the sound of the rubble falling to his right with a thud.  _ But why was the rubble back in its original place? Hadn’t he moved it? _

 

“I don’t think… you were able to move a piece of concrete this big, Iggy.” Heavy concern dripped from Gladio’s tone, eyeing said concrete. Surely, it had been Ignis’s height and its thickness was the length of his forearm, but he remembered —

 

With a grunt, Gladio heaved the concrete aside, throwing it to the side. He had been so sure he’d moved it, then what  _ was _ the thing that he moved —

 

Boots. Boots all too familiar; a design that can only be registered as a Kingsglaive boots. A sharp intake of breath from Gladio to his side, but his eyes were zoned onto the figure buried under the rubble.

 

_ It can’t be _ _. _

 

He’d still have a world to rebuild back after the Long Night, he had duties Noctis had entrusted onto him; the Crownsguard to train and oversee, the repair works along Insomnia and throughout Lucis that he had to look over, the reconnaissance work that he’d promised the remaining members of the Kingsglaive _ — _

 

But yet there he was—he’d never seen himself aside from in reflections and in photos, but he’d know when a body was his, and this body that was unmistakably his— lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were open wide, mouth curled in pain, and a wire thick enough to be the size of his palm protruding from his chest. It can’t be, he can’t be— _what?_

 

“Iggy?”

 

He can’t be dead.


End file.
